“Presumably they want me out, and fast. But I haven’t a clue why or who’s behind it. Six weeks ago I was a contented chef, presiding over a healthy little business without a care in the world. Then I came home from the markets at ten o’clock one morning to find my assistant being berated by the Environmental Health Inspector, my kitchen stinking to high heaven of corruption, and me on the wrong end of a prosecution.” He ruffled his hair.
“The restaurant was closed for three days while I cleaned it. My staff never came back after the closure. My customers, predominantly policemen and their families which, incidentally, is how the news of the Inspector’s visit got out deserted in droves because they reckoned I’d been cutting corners to line my pockets, and the local restauranteurs are accusing me of giving the whole trade a bad name through my lack of professionalism. I’ve been effectively isolated.”
Roz shook her head.
“Why on earth didn’t you report that breakin last Tuesday?”
He sighed.
“What good would it have done me? I couldn’t tie it in to the Health Inspector’s visit. I decided to work with some live bait instead.” He saw her bewilderment.
“I caught two of them at it, wrecking the place. I think it was a chance thing.
They discovered the restaurant was empty and took their opportunity.”
He laughed suddenly.
“I was so angry with you that I had them both upstairs, gagged and handcuffed to my window bars, before they even knew what had hit them.
But they were a tough pair,” he said with genuine admiration.
“They weren’t going to talk.” He shrugged.
“So I sat it out and waited for someone to come looking for them.”
No wonder he had been frightened.
“Why did you decide it was chance that brought them and not me?” she asked curiously.
“I’d have thought it was me every time.”
The laughter lines rayed out around his eyes.
“You didn’t see yourself with that table leg. You were so terrified when the kitchen door opened, so relieved when you saw it was me, and so twitched when I told you I hadn’t called the police. No one, but no one, is that good.” He took a mouthful of wine and savoured it for a moment.
“I’m in a catch twenty-two. The police don’t believe me. They think I’m guilty, but trying to use doubt or cunning to wriggle out of the prosecution. Even Geof Wyatt, who was my partner and who knows me better than anyone, claims to have had the runs since he saw the Inspector’s photographs. They all ate there regularly, partly because I gave them discounts and partly out of a genuine desire to see an ex-copper succeed.” He wiped a weary hand across his mouth.
“Now, I’m persona non grata and I can’t really blame them. They feel they’ve been conned.”
“Why would you need to con them?”
“The recession.” He sighed.
“Businesses are going down like ninepins. There’s no reason mine should have been immune. What’s the first thing a restauranteur’s likely to do when he’s running out of money? Hang on to dodgy food and serve it up in a curry.”
There was a twisted logic to it.
“Won’t your staff speak up for you?”
He smiled grimly.
“The two waitresses have agreed to, but the only one whose word might carry weight is my assistant chef, and he was last heard of heading for France.” He stretched his arms towards the ceiling, and winced as pain seared round his ribs.
“It wouldn’t do me any good anyway. He must have been bought. Someone had to let whoever framed me into the kitchen and he had the only other key.” His eyes hardened.
“I should have throttled him when I had the chance but I was so damn shell-shocked I didn’t put two and two together fast enough. By the time I had, he’d gone.”
Roz chewed her thumb in thought.
“Didn’t that man tell you anything after I left? I assumed you were going to use my hat ping on him.”
Her candour brought a smile to his bleak face.
“I did, but he didn’t make much sense.
“You’re costing money on the foreclosures.” That’s all he said.” He arched an eyebrow.
“Can you make anything of it?”
“Not unless the bank’s about to pull the rug from underneath your feet.”
He shook his head.
“I borrowed the absolute minimum.
There’s no immediate pressure.” He drummed his fingers on the floor.
